Page 4 of Prince of Vice
"Primo, it's important that you stay put. Your trial is coming up, and we need you free and clear." Charlie's voice is calm but firm, a fatherly tone that reminds me of countless conversations over the years.
“About that,” I say. “I'm not sure Isabella’s cut out for this kind of trial. She's young, inexperienced. This is high stakes, Charlie." My heart beats faster, anxiety creeping in as thoughts of my uncertain future swirl in my head.
“So, you think you want another lawyer?”
“I do,” I reply. “Can you find me someone? Someone less green?”
“I’ll work on it,” Charlie says. “Although, finding another lawyer might be harder than you think, Primo." Charlie's voice holds a note of caution. "With your father's arrest and the rumors about Constantino's scheming, our family's power isn't what it used to be. Not everyone will want to take on this case."
"Damn it, Charlie, I know that. But what choice do I have?" My frustration boils over, a torrent of anger and fear. I pace the room, my footsteps bouncing off the marble floor like the distant rumbles of thunder.
"Primo, calm down." Charlie's hand reaches out to steady me, his grip firm but gentle. "You have more control here than you think. Just because you're stuck in this place doesn't mean you can't still handle business."
"Handle business? How am I supposed to do that when I can't even step outside?"
"Here." He hands me a cell phone, sleek and unassuming, no doubt with an extra layer of encryption. "You can still make decisions from here. Coordinate shipments, manage the supply chain, all while awaiting trial.”
I run a hand through my hair in frustration. “You really think leading from a cell phone is even possible?” My anger is boiling over, but I know it’s not Charlie’s fault.
“It's not ideal, but it'll keep things running,” he replies calmly, used to my outbreaks.
I take a deep breath and try and calm my nerves. “Thank you, Charlie,” I force myself to say. My fingers close around the phone, its presence both reassuring and burdensome. "I appreciate everything you're doing for me."
"Anything for you, kid." His eyes soften as he claps me on the shoulder.
“How did she get on my case in the first place?” I wonder out loud.
“I think it was just an oversight. Frankie’s only been in the ground for a little while. Chances are the paperwork got sent to his old office and she was there to pick it up.”
“What happened to Frankie?” I ask. “Other than the being dead part?”
Charlie shrugs. “He lost your father’s trial.”
“There was no way anyone was going to win that trial,” I reply bitterly.
Charlie nods. “I agree. I believe he also owed a pretty substantial debt to the family. I can get some clarity for you on that, as well.”
“I appreciate it,” I say. “Hopefully you can find the right person for this job. It's hard to trust someone I barely know with my life, Charlie. Every day I spend locked away in here, I lose control of the family. And that scares me the most.”
"Primo, we've weathered storms before," he says, his eyes never leaving mine. "We'll get through this together. Just have faith in yourself."
“I lost my faith in just about everything a long time ago,” I mutter.
“Alright, enough with the dramatics,” he chuckles. “Now, put all this behind you and go get some work done. And remember, you're not alone in this."
"Right." With a nod, I watch as Charlie exits the room, leaving me to face my demons alone once more.
I power on the phone, messages flooding in like a deluge, each one whispering of drugs, guns, and the sprawling underworld we've built. As I sift through the information, a sense of purpose begins to rise within me. For the first time in days, I feel like I can breathe again.
But even as I work, my thoughts keep drifting back to Isabella. I try and maintain my focus, but her green eyes, that red hair, her soft voice, and her determination to save me from this nightmare is alluring. She's a beautiful woman and already proven herself to be capable. I fully expected the judge to deny bail. Yet, somehow she was able to convince a hard-ass like Dolan to let me out on house arrest.
Still, I can't shake the feeling that it might not be enough—that despite her best efforts, our enemies, both within and without, are closing in. The thought chills me to the bone, a cold wind blowing through the lavish halls of our once-invincible empire.
"Damn it," I mutter under my breath as I continue working through messages, my fingers tapping away at the screen with an almost frantic urgency. "I need to find a way out of this mess."
The responsibility bears down on me as I continue to handle the family business through the phone. My fingers fly over the screen, issuing orders and making deals, but a nagging doubt gnaws at my insides like a ravenous beast. I can feel our power slipping through my fingers like sand, and the knowledge that I am shackled here, unable to assert my authority in person, only heightens the unease.
"Everything has a price," I whisper to myself, recalling my father's most often repeated adage. And I cannot help but wonder if the cost of my freedom will be our downfall.